And Here You Are
by Blink Vinyl
Summary: A series of one shots relating to my other story "Fix." If you want to understand this story you are going to have to read "Fix." This is mostly to cure my writers block so try not to judge. Please R and R.
1. The First Day

_And here you are living despite it all._

 _-Rupi Kaur_

* * *

 _ **A/N**_

I briefly mentioned writing a series of one shots earlier and I've decided that it's probably only going to be updated when I am suffering my way through writer's block like I have been for a while. I'm also kind of sick beyond making the words go in the way you all deserve. This is a continuation/prequel/etc. of Fix. I'd like this to be very interactive so ideas are, as always, welcome.

* * *

 **The First day (1996)**

Ruthie snaps her gum and flips another page in whatever zoology book she can get her grubby little nine-year-old hands on. Ruthie wants to go places; Borneo, Uganda, Nigeria. She wants to study animals. I don't tell her how unlikely it is that any of us will ever go anywhere outside of Nevada or Massachusetts. She hasn't realized it yet and telling her would be cruel. Not a single woman in our family has ever been to college. Not ever. Unfortunately most jobs that take you to other countries require higher education.

But who knows, maybe Ruthie will accomplish the impossible.

Maybe I will.

I roll my neck slowly from left to right, setting down my pencil. As much as I dig my man William Shakespeare he sucks to translate from old english to new english, which makes it even harder to understand in Italian.

"Ruthie," I say, shoving the book at her "What does this word mean?"

Ruth Emilia Romano is a bonafide American citizen, the only one of us to be born in the United States, so she is the assigned translator of the family. And I mean all of the family. Every aunt, uncle, cousin, and sibling born before 1987 goes to her for anything American we can't figure out ourselves.

She pulls her nose out of her book and takes a quick glance at mine.

"How should I know? I'm in the fourth grade."

She goes back to staring at a picture of a tiger looking thing, popping her gum again.

"Monello." I snap back at her angrily.

"I'm telling Mom!" She wails angrily at me as though Mom will actually care when we get back home. Baby Ruthie's whinging is the whole reason Mom made me take her with me to the library in the first place. I was trying to escape Anthony's colicy angry baby to begin with and I somehow got stuck with an even bigger more annoying one. My nephew, Teddy, might be adorable and his father might be my favorite sibling, but that does not mean our house isn't a war zone of baby cries and seething disappointment.

I roll my eyes at her.

"You can walk home yourself and do that right now then."

She grumbles and mumbles but doesn't throw a fit again. She's afraid to go anywhere alone. Mostly because she knows Mom will break out the wooden spoon.

"That's what I thought." I say, pushing out my chair and getting up.

When Ruthie doesn't know something and I don't know something, that leads us to one of two options; I guess, or I have to hunt down an english to Italian dictionary. I'm trying to claw my way through summer school, I can't afford to guess. The computers are down, according to the sign I saw on the way in. That means no card catalog. That also means that I have to hunt down an employee.

Wonderful.

"Do you see anyone who works here?"

Ruthie sighs in annoyance and points towards the nonfiction section.

"I think that guy does. Will you leave me alone now? I'm trying to _read."_

I swing my head to where she's pointing, not bothering to respond to her question. There is only one male in the vicinity of where she is pointing. He's tall, wearing a sweater, with longish, slicked back, brown hair. He's dressed like a teacher's assistant. Not that I can really talk. My poor sneakers are held together with duct tape.

"Um… excuse me."

He does not respond, flipping through a book so old it is practically disintegrating in his hand. He flips the pages so fast that there is absolutely no way that he is taking any of it in.

"Sir?" I tap him hesitantly on the shoulder, causing him to jump up and slam the book shut which causes me to jump.

He stares at me like a deer in the headlights, brown eyes blown crazy wide behind thick glasses. It takes me a second to realise that he is my age, if not younger. His eyes make him look like a child. He also might be a little bit cute, if I am admitting to the truth.

"Uh… do you know where I can find an english to italian dictionary?"

He stares at me in fear for a moment longer before blinking and opening his mouth.

"I- uh- I don't exactly work here."

His voice is also childish, soft and shy.

And then it hits me.

 _Ruthie!_

 _I am going to kill her!_

All of the blood in my body makes a mad dash for my face.

"Oh, oh, I am so sorry! My sister said you were working here. I will just be going now, I am so sorry to be bothering you-" My accent sits in my tongue, thick and heavy, my 'i's' coming out like my sister's 'e's'. My face gets even hotter.

Flustered. That is what my teacher would say.

I turn quickly on my heel ready to flee. Ready to pound Ruthie into the floor.

"Oh, wait!" The boy says "Do you still need the book? I know where it is."

I hesitate, turning back around. I really need that book.

"You do?"

He nods at me earnestly.

"I can show you, I mean, if you want. There are 59,862 books in this library."

He says it like he is reciting it off a piece of paper.

"I would like that."

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 **Very short. Might be continued might not. Please r and r :).**


	2. No greater sorrow

_**There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery a time when you were happy.**_

 _ **Dante**_

 **February, 2012 (Home of Hollis St. Claire's foster parents)**

There are very few things less comfortable than than being hunched over the bathtub while someone pours scalding hot water onto your scalp from less than a centimeter away. The side of the tub digs into my stomach making it a tad bit hard to breath which isn't helped by the water rolling from my neck to my cheekbones and into my nostrils and mouth. Hol grumply pushes the shower head into my hand and starts to angrily grind shampoo into my hair.

"I cannot believe that you did this to your hair. You just shredded your best feature."

I grimace as soap falls into my eye.

"She's having a midlife crisis," Aybee pipes up from the doorway, words muffled by her huge camera "Give her a break."

"No." Hollis snaps "No. This isn't a midlife crisis. This is a hate crime. She butchered her beautiful hair in the most disgusting way possible. This is a sin. An offense against the gods. I can't believe you. I am your _hairdresser._ I do it for _free._ I don't even have a _waiting list._ You could have shown up unannounced and I would have happily given you whatever haircut you wanted, within reason, but no. You took a _rusty pair of kitchen scissors_ and you cut off _sixteen inches_ of hair. I can't just glue this back on, Syd."

I close my eyes for a second, feeling her angry hands tear through my hair.

"I wanted to give you a project for your blog." I snark in response.

"Damn right this is a project! This is going to be a bitch to fix! You worked so hard to learn how to fix your hair just to cut it all off? Really?!" She snatches the shower head back, rinsing the soap out of my hair before giving it back.

"Well, I won't need as much product anymore."

"Wrong!" She almost shouts "You can't just straighten your hair anymore, it won't work with what I'm going to have to do. Your going to end up looking like a soccer mom if you even touch a flat iron. You have to gel and curl and moisturize and-"

"Okay, okay, we get it. Chill." Aybee pipes up again.

Hollis growls at her rubbing conditioner into my hair before rinsing it out.

The boys and Jordyn are hiding because they know it's filming day and Hollis is on a rampage which is never a good sign. Friends are guinea pigs on filming day.

Hollis has a clear shower curtain that she uses as a styling cape whenever she cuts or dyes someone's hair. She's altered it so it fits people and velcros behind their necks, mostly because it was convenient but also so we can use our phones and laptops while she does whatever it is she's doing. Milo sits on my lap playing the news from San Francisco. Hollis tilts my head up so I'm looking at the ceiling

" **...When the Zodiac stopped killing my cousin was put into mental hospital in New Mexico-"**

I snort audibly, I rolling my eyes.

"What a douchebag."

"Why do you insist upon watching the news from random places? You've never even been to San Francisco."

"I like knowing that there are problems out there that have nothing to do with me. Side's, they think the Zodiac's back. I can't miss out on this rampant crapshoot."

"Well, can't he really be back?" Hollis asks

"Unlikely." I say at the same time Aybee says "Not a chance."

Aybee has seen every documentary ever made, and there are a couple hundred out there about the Zodiac. We've seen quite a few of them together.

"The Zodiac killed in the late sixties to early seventies. Saying he was at least twenty years old that means that he was born in the late 1940's to early 1950's, so he would be at least sixty-four. Can you imagine a man older than my grandfather moving smoothly enough to murder two teenagers and getting away clean? Besides, those taunts to the pigs were exceptionally juvenile."

" **He was released two months ago."**

"Almost as juvenile as this guy."

"Couldn't his cousin-"

"Nah, he's a Narcisslut. If they actually question him, he'll fold like a lawn chair. Plus he just totally tossed his cousin down the river, if that person really does exist."

Aybee laughs.

"I wanna see that family reunion."

" _ **Do you have anything more specific?**_ " the voice of the female reporter asks.

" **He was working on a production of "The Mikado" in '68. The Zodiac talked about "The Mikado" in one of his letters."**

I snort again.

"At least we know there is one thing true about his little fairytale."

" _ **Excuse me. I'm Dr. Reid with the behavioral analysis unit."**_

I cackle the witchy cackle of someone who knows that someone else is about to get busted on live television.

"Holy shit," Hollis marvels "they really busted out the big guns for this one didn't they?"

"Hey Syd," Aybee exclaims, tossing a piece of popcorn at my face. "the guy said his name was Reid. Maybe he's your dad!"

I roll my eyes again.

"Ha ha ha. So funny, Aybee. You should quit film and become a comedian."

Hollis leans over my shoulder to look at Milo.

"You could do worse. He's pretty hot."

"Jesus, Hol! That is such a weird thing to say about my make believe father."

It doesn't stop me from trying to look down, the eight year old in me dying of curiosity. Hollis grabs my chin and forces it back up.

"Yeah, Hollister. Aren't you gay?"

Hol tugs her comb roughly through my sopping wet hair, tugging my head even farther back.

"Gay not blind. I'm not sexually attracted to hair but I still know when it looks good."

"Are you sure you aren't sexually attracted to hair? You seemed pretty upset when mine was no longer available."

She whips me on the back of the head with her Wet Brush.

" _ **Was your cousin by chance a fan of Wagner? Because a CD of 'The Tragic Overture' was sent to the police this morning."**_

"'The Tragic Overture was _not_ written by Wagner."

" **He loved Wagner, especially 'The Tragic Overture.' Its him."**

" _ **Oh, yeah. Well for the record, a CD was not sent to the police this morning and 'The Tragic Overture was written by Brahms, not Wagner, so luckily, I guess, it is not your cousin. The FBI would greatly appreciate if people would stop making false claims to get their fifteen minutes of fame."**_

Aybee and I are both cracking up now while Hollis giggles.

"Drag the bitch!" I crow.

"Can you even imagine…" Aybee gasps.

" _ **Thank you. Thank you very much."**_

"Whataguy." Hollis snarks happily


End file.
